20. Epicenter
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPICENTER
Claire
The equestrian showcase starts at noon. The gala follows at seven. I gave up on sleep around four, running through mental checklists.
Grabbing my phone, I notice it’s a little after seven. I already have three messages from Lucy. She wants me to come early and assess the damage from last night’s earthquake.
Several more messages wait—from volunteers, the caterer, and other vendors—all asking the same question. How bad is it, and can the fundraiser still happen?
Beside me, Ethan shifts. “Why are you getting up already?” His voice thick with sleep. He must have come in late—conveniently late.
“There’s damage at the ranch from the earthquake.”
A strange expression crosses his face at my words.
By the time I arrive, people are moving in every direction.
The earthquake left its mark everywhere.
A whole section of arena fencing has buckled and splintered, the posts leaning like drunken soldiers.
Half the string lights have come down, and one of the main support beams for the covered walkway has cracked clean through—still standing.
Several tables and silent auction displays have shifted, but the rest of the ranch has escaped the worst of it.
By mid-morning, horses are being unloaded from trailers and vendors are setting up displays. Everywhere I look, someone has a question.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Lucy.
“Morning,” I say, my voice a calm counterpoint against the chaos.
“I don’t think it is.”
I laugh. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Lucy.”
She gestures toward the registration tent. “Everything.”
The caterer’s main generator is dead, so I track down the site manager to find a backup. Then, a whole pallet of glassware is shattered. I spend twenty minutes on the phone with the rental company, calmly but firmly negotiating a replacement before the first guests arrive.
Spectators arrive shortly before noon and crowd around the arena. Children gravitate toward the stables. Everywhere I look, people are smiling.
After lunch, I spot Ethan and Reid watching a riding competition. I start toward them, but someone stops me halfway with a question about seating assignments. By the time I finish helping, they’re gone.
The evening arrives sooner than expected.
After a quick change at home, I re-enter the bedroom, and pause. Ethan stands before the mirror, adjusting his tie. I can only stare, he looks incredibly handsome in his fitted tuxedo, the crisp lines emphasizing his broad shoulders.
He catches my reflection in the mirror and turns. “You look stunning,” he says, his gaze sweeping over me.
My gown is a vibrant turquoise with a daring open back. I’d worried the dress was too much, too exposed, but the glint in his eye is all the affirmation I need.
“Thank you.”
He looks as if he’s about to speak but stops himself, coming over to wrap his arms around me. “Ready to go?”
The transformation inside the tent is breathtaking. Thousands of white lights illuminate the property, and music drifts through the evening air. Guests in formal attire, fill the vibrant space.
I make my way through the crowd to the gentle clinking of glasses amidst the rustle of expensive fabrics greeting donors and sponsors. I notice Brooke and Ethan talking near the silent auction tables. She looks elegant in a coral dress that shimmers under the fairy lights.
I notice Reid watching them—not openly, but I catch his gaze tracking their movements. He looks concerned. For a fleeting second, I wonder if I should ask him about it, but then dismiss the thought.
Sloane appears at my side. Her eyes drift toward Brooke and Ethan before returning to me. “You look like you’re trying to burn a hole through them with that stare.”
Before I can respond, Lucy calls my name from across the lawn, indicating the speeches are soon.
As I step onto the stage, the crowd gradually quiets. I reach the podium and scan the audience. Hundreds of faces turn toward me, and I take a deep breath.
“Good evening, everyone.” I start as I scan the room. “When this community sees a need, it responds. Tonight is living proof.”
I speak of the volunteers and donors. My voice gaining strength when I talk about the kids.
“A child’s future should never be determined by the hardest thing they’ve experienced.
” I see Lucy dabbing her eyes. I thank her and Sloane, then my eyes find Ethan.
“Finally, I thank my husband. Without your support, I wouldn’t be here today.
” I finish by thanking the community. “Enjoy your evening.”
As I step off the podium, I’m approached by a familiar face.
“Claire. Hi. Daniel Mercer.”
“Hi, Daniel. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. I was just telling your assistant, Joyce, how impressed I am with what Mercer Development has done downtown. I have a soft spot for historic properties, so it’s been wonderful to see those buildings preserved instead of replaced.”
“Thank you. My late wife, Suzanne, would have loved hearing that. She was passionate about this kind of work.” He smiles, though there’s a hint of sadness behind it.
“We made a donation tonight through the Mercer Charity Foundation, but I think we can do more. Would you be open to meeting sometime to discuss how we might better support Juniper House?”
“That would be amazing. Joyce has my contact information, and I’d be happy to meet whenever it’s convenient for you. I’d also love to give you a tour of Juniper House so you can see what we do firsthand and talk about our vision for the future.”
“Perfect. I won’t keep you any longer tonight. I’ll be traveling out of the country starting tomorrow and will be gone for a few weeks, but I’ll be in touch when I get back.”
Later I find Ethan standing alone near the edge of the property, looking a little forlorn. He disappeared for a little while tonight. Probably sneaking Jensen’s expensive whisky with Reid.
“You were incredible,” he says as I approach.
“Thank you.”
Across the lawn, I notice Reid speaking to Sloane. Both glance in our direction before looking away. The expression on Reid’s face is thoughtful, concerned, even.